Tell The Wolves I'm Home
by You-Just-Might
Summary: AU. What do you do when you can't do anything else? How do you keep going when you aren't going anywhere? How do you learn to love and trust and care when nobody has ever done those things in relation to you? Anna doesn't know. Maybe she never will. Maybe she doesn't want to. But life doesn't take into account what you do or don't want.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a totally original story of my own making. Therefore, I claim the rights to it. **

I watch with an almost worrying attention as they lower the empty casket into the grave. I don't see why we had to go spend all that money on a casket- money we don't have- when nobody's going to be in it. Mom insisted though and as she's already having a hard enough time that I didn't argue.

Saying Mom is having a "hard time" is probably the understatement of the century. In the five days since a cop showed up at our door with the news that my Father had been in an accident and hadn't made it, Mom has fallen apart. On my part, I haven't been able to fall apart yet because I've been too busy keeping everyone else together. I organized the funeral, I made sure my siblings got to school, I cooked and packed lunches. I checked on Mom, who seems to have decided that lying in bed with the curtains drawn and a cold washcloth over her eyes is going to make her feel better. I've also tried to get around to going to school as much as my new reality will allow me to.

Now, I try to politely answer the well-meant questions of relatives, family friends and the other people who've shown up at Dad's funeral, many of whom I am 99% sure I've never seen before in my life. The number of condolence cards that have shown up in our mailbox in the days since Dad died are astounding, especially since most of the people they're from never did anything nice for my family when Dad was alive. Our next door neighbour (who once popped Dad's tires after he yelled some not very nice things when she accidently hit our garbage cans backing into her driveway) even brought over a casserole.

So anyways, there are a lot of thing I'm trying not to think about while they lower Dad's empty casket into the ground at end of the graveside service "Mom" organized. I look down when I feel something tugging at the edge of my long black coat and see the round little toddler face of my younger sister.

"Is Daddy in that box?" she asks me in that way all toddlers ask questions.

"No Emily," I answer, crouching down so that I'm at her level.

"Why not?" she wants to know.

How do you tell your four year old sister that her Daddy isn't in his casket because when he got hit by a transport truck on the highway, his car burned so long and so hot that there wasn't anything left? The answer: you don't.

"Daddy wanted to be cremated," I say. It's the closest thing to the truth I can come up with.

"What's cremated?"

I'm about to answer when my brother, thirteen year old Connor buts in. "Burned up Emmy," he says, using his nickname for our sister. "Cremated is burned up."

I shoot him a look before turning back to Emily whose lower lip is wobbling dangerously. "Daddy didn't want to be stuck in the ground forever so he asked to be cremated," I tell her.

"Well once he's done with that, can he come back home?" Emily asks, her eyes wide and brimming with the tears of a girl who just wants her Daddy back. The innocence in her voice breaks my heart.

"No Emily," I say, knowing that my answer isn't what she wants to hear. "Daddy can never come back home." I hold her in my arms as she cries and try to focus on the words of the pastor who's talking from beside Dad's grave. All I hear is white noise.

* * *

I begged the Bishop at the big Catholic church near our house to let us use the church basement for the funeral reception so that's where we go to eat the little funeral sandwiches and Nanaimo bars that I begged a grocery store to donate. I bought tea bags and brought a couple of teapots over earlier along with Connor, Emily and Alyssa, my four month old sister, to help me set up. We raided the church kitchen and came up with six sandwich plates and an assortment of cups, mugs and cutlery, all of which now sit on a large table at the centre of the room. The sandwich plates are overflowing with the donated sandwiches and Nanaimo bars and the cups and mugs are placed next to numerous teapots filled with Earl Grey tea and a few containers of grape juice which I hadn't been expecting but had been delivered by the grocery store along with the food none the less early this morning.

After making sure everybody got to the church okay, I take Alyssa from Mom who's looking pretty shaky and, after putting Connor on Emily duty, cross to the kitchen to thank my best friend in the world, James, for making the tea and setting up the chairs and tables that Connor, Emily and I hadn't had time to set up earlier today.

"How're you doing?" James asks when he sees me.

"I'll be better once this is all over," I answer, giving him a one arm hug then push Alyssa into his arms and cross to the pass through where dishes are already piling up and throw them into a sink already filled with warm water and soap. "Thanks for doing this," I toss at him over my shoulder.

"Yeah well, you practically begged."

"I did not," I say with a grin, pushing the ball of grief in my throat down. "You asked if there was anything you could do and I assigned you a task."

"I thought you were going to ask me to baby sit," he says mournfully, "not make tea and set up tables."

"But you did it anyways and that's why I love you." I reply scrubbing at a particularly dirty plate that has bits of egg salad and chocolate mixed in with a sticky mess of spilled juice all over it. "We've been here for maybe ten minutes," I say looking at James. "How is it that there's already a pile of dishes waiting to be washed?"

"Beats me," he shrugs. "Why didn't you just buy paper plates?"

"Paper plates cost money and these were free. Plus after Mom insisted on a $4000 casket and a $3000 headstone, there was barely money to pay the pastor."

"I thought your Mom didn't help with the funeral." James says.

"She didn't, she just ordered me to buy the casket and headstone to her specifications and I didn't refuse because she's already having a hard enough time and I didn't think that ignoring her would help anything." I'm scrubbing the now clean plate very hard despite its cleanliness.

"Give it here," James says, coming forward and taking the plate from my hand then giving me Alyssa. "You're going to break the plate and its made out of plastic. I know from experience how hard that is to do."

"Sorry," I say sheepishly as he dries the plate. "I'm just not very happy with my Mother right now."

"I gathered," James says. "You have a right to be angry you know. You're only seventeen but you're the one who ended up organizing your Father's funeral. It's not fair."

"Yeah well, life's not fair." I mutter.

He shoots me a sympathetic look but doesn't comment further because Alyssa starts to cry in my arms.

I sigh. "Did you stop and get her diaper bag like I asked?"

"Yep, it's on the counter beside the fridge," James answers without turning around.

"Thanks," I reply. Then to Alyssa, "what's wrong? Are you hungry?" I try to give her a bottle but she just keeps wailing so I check her diaper. Sure enough, it needs changing. Well I do that, I give James a rundown of the funeral service. "I didn't listen to a word the pastor said," I tell him. "Emily was crying and Connor was trying to act like he didn't care. Mom was holding Alyssa and she was barely keeping it together and random people kept coming up to me and patting my hand and telling me how sorry they were for my loss."

James snorts. "I hate that. People you barely know trying to be sympathetic and understanding. The worst is those relatives you haven't seen in years who ask if they can do anything to help but once you say no, I'm fine, you never see them again."

"I know right?" I say. It feels good, this easy banter with James. Nothing about the past few days has been easy but this is. I get the diaper on Alyssa and turn around holding her over my head like I would a trophy. "Ta da," I say in a singsong voice.

James turns around and grins at me. "And the gold in diaper changing goes to Anna Hill!"

I laugh for the first time today and it's great, I actually feel happy.

The feeling is ruined when Connor comes in to the kitchen with Emily in tow. "Mom's losing it," he informs me.

"Crap," I say in response. "Stay here."

James dry's his hands. "Want help?" he asks.

"I should be good," I reply. "Can you take Alyssa though? If she loses it I'm going to need both hands."

"Sure," James tells me. "If you need help, you know where to find me."

I smile grimly then square my shoulders and walk out of the kitchen, wishing my Dad was here and that none of this had ever happened.

Since Dad died, mom has been a little unstable. She's only totally "lost it", as Connor put it, twice so far but Dad's only been dead five days. The first time she lost it, she was reduced to what seemed like a shell of the woman she had been when Dad was alive, lying on the floor and shaking with wracking sobs. That lasted almost two hours with her shouting insults at anybody who tried to help. The second time wasn't anything like that. The second time my mother lost it, she broke every plate in our kitchen by throwing them against the wall and gave me a bruise the size of China when I tried to stop her. Eventually I got her pinned to the floor with her hands by her head but not before she did some serious damage. That scared both Connor and Emily and woke Alyssa up from her nap. I've got to admit, it wasn't fun for me to see her like that either.

It is for these reasons that I'm terrified walking out of that kitchen. You know how sometimes, before a thunderstorm, you know that one's coming just by the smell in the air? How you can almost feel the electricity coming off of the lightning if you focus hard enough? That's how that room feels right now expect I don't think anyone else has noticed. I walk up to my mother who is standing in the middle of the room beside the sandwiches.

"Mom, are you okay?" I ask.

"Yeah," she answers, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "My husband's dead, but I'm fine."

Just like that she explodes. There is no warning, no time to say or do anything to stop her; I barely duck in time to avoid being hit in the head with a flying plate of sandwiches. They clatter musically to the ground along with the plate and the room falls silent. I feel the stares of our guests at my back but ignore them because I know that taking my attention off my mother for even one second would be a mistake. My past has taught me that much.

"My husband is dead and you want to know if I'm okay?" My mother screams at me. Her face is red and spit flies out of her mouth as she yells.

I'm pretty sure hers was a rhetorical question but I answer anyways. "Yes Mom, after the service and everything I just thought I should make sure you didn't need anything." I don't know what about my answer makes it happen, but she deflates like a popped balloon.

"How nice of you Anna," she practically gushes. She turns to address the room full of open mouthed people. "Wasn't that nice of my daughter? I have such a nice daughter." Then my mother grabs a sandwich and plops down in a chair like nothing happened.

I sigh and turn to clean up the plate and sandwiches ignoring the stares and unasked questions of our guests. I feel the weight of their eyes on my back like I am holding the sky on my shoulders but I decide I don't really care right now. I've diverted one disaster and that will have to be enough for today.

* * *

I send Mom home when the reception ends but she isn't doing very well so I keep Connor, Emily and Alyssa with me. James stays as well to help me clean up. We fold table clothes and put plastic wrap over the leftover food then stick it in the fridge with a note that says the church can have it. I leave a second note on the counter thanking the bishop and telling him about the food in the fridge. Then I try to help Jason and Connor put away the tables but I'm carrying Alyssa and Emily is following me around like a puppy so I end up getting in the way, not helping. In the end I sit in a corner and entertain Emily while the boys finish up the cleaning.

Emily keeps trying to get me to answer questions. Have you ever played the question game with a toddler? Why is a banana yellow? Why don't humans fly? Why don't you like apples? Why can't I go to school with you? I try to answer as many of them as I can but I'm focused on Mom and her fraying edges. Eventually Connor and James finish and after I hand Alyssa and Emily off to James (who hands Alyssa to Connor and picks Emily so he can spin her around in circles), I do a final check off the room. After confirming we've not forgotten anything, we can finally leave the church.

Nobody wants to walk because the air's got that cruel bite to it that always comes with fall. We wait for the bus and take it back to our house where James gets off with us like he usually does. He waltzes into our house like he owns the place and makes a beeline for the kitchen where he immediately goes to the cupboard with hot chocolate mix in it and fills four mugs with the stuff. He then grabs the kettle, fills it with water and puts it on the stove.

"Sure James, you can make hot chocolate." I say dryly, setting Alyssa down in her high chair.

"I haven't asked before doing something in your house for three years," he points out with a lopsided grin.

I don't dignify that with a reply but I'm trying not smile as I glance at the clock on the microwave. 5:17; the funeral didn't start until 1:00 this afternoon so I guess all in all it hasn't been that long since it began but it feels like an eternity. Also Emily and Alyssa haven't slept since I woke them up this morning. Correction: I woke Emily up, Alyssa woke me up.

I moved Alyssa's crib into my room a few days ago because she doesn't have her own room and she can't really sleep in Mom's room anymore. It isn't safe. If Mom loses it, I don't trust that she won't hurt Alyssa or herself. I can't do anything about Mom hurting herself at the moment but I can keep her from hurting Alyssa. Then again, I'm not sure she would. I figure it's better to be safe than sorry though. The problem with this arrangement, I've found, is that three month old babies don't sleep through the night.

I clap my hands together to get everyone's attention. Every head but Connor's turns my way. Connor has ear buds in so that doesn't surprise me much and seeing as I don't need his attention, I don't bother trying to get him to take them out.

"Okay, its nap time guys," I tell Alyssa (not that she understands me) and Emily.

Emily nods and sets down her coloring book and crayons which she had left on the table when we left earlier today. "Can Mommy tuck me in?" she asks.

"Not today Emmy," I tell her. "Maybe she can tomorrow."

I leave Alyssa in James's capable hand to tuck Emily in, then go back to the kitchen, grab Alyssa, tuck her in and flip on the baby monitor. I take my half of it into the kitchen with me where James is finishing up the hot chocolate.

"They asleep?" he asks.

"They will be soon," I answer. Since dad died, we've become a bit of a unit. James does what he can to help me out with my siblings and spends most of his spare time at my house. It's really helped me because I am so not cut out for this being the responsible one thing.

"Good," James replies as I sip my hot chocolate.

I see that Connor has his on the couch with him, ear buds in and think about reminding him of the no food or drink on the furniture rule but decided against it. I don't feel like having that argument right now.

"So," James says cautiously, "is your mom going back to work soon?"

I try to keep the worry of my face when he says that. "She has to. They called yesterday and said that if she wasn't back in work on Monday, she'd lose her job. She can't lose her job James, if she does, I don't know how I'll pay the bills. There's a bit of money in my parent's bank accounts but not much. Not enough without her working full time, maybe not even enough then."

My Mom works at an insurance company. It doesn't pay great but it pays enough to pay the bills. At least it used to but that was with Dad's pay too and even then it was tight sometimes.

"You need to make her go to work Anna. You have too."

"I know," I tell him. "I just don't know how." I put my head in my hands then. I don't cry. I can't afford to cry right now because if I do I won't be able to stop. James gets up from his chair and puts his arms around me. We don't say anything.

* * *

The next morning I wake up before anybody else to make my mother breakfast in bed. Eggs, fried with pepper just the way she likes them and fresh coffee. I take them to her room and shake her awake.

"Mom," I whisper, it's nine o'clock but I'm the only person awake. "Mom, I made you breakfast."

She opens one eye. "What do you want?"

"I made you breakfast," I repeat.

"I can see that," she sounds irritated. "Why? What do you want?"

I drop the act. "You need to go to work tomorrow, if you don't you'll lose your job," I tell her.

"Okay, I'll go."

I blink. "What?"

"I said I'll go. Now get out of my room." I turn to leave, taking the tray with me. "Leave the food," Mom orders. I do.

Once I'm outside her room and the door's closed, I take a breath and lean against the wall. That was easier than I expected. I figured I'd have to yell a little at the least. Now I have to come up with something to do with the kids for the day.

I look at the sleeping figure on our couch as I walk into the kitchen. James fell asleep at our house again. That makes the second time since Dad died.

I go back and shake him awake. "Better call your Mom and tell her where you are," I tell him.

He mumbles something incoherent in response and pulls his pillow over his head.

I grin.

**A/N:**

**Hi, You-Just-Might here. So as you can tell this is not a Gallagher Girls fanfiction, unlike the rest of my stories. No, this is a currently untitled novel that I am writing for my English mark this year in school. My teacher is having us write novels for our English mark this year, which I have to say I am enjoying. I could really use some feedback though, so I would appreciate it if you guys could review with your thoughts. Any opinions, suggestions or constructive criticism are 100% welcome. (Please take note that I did put constructive in front of criticism.)**

**The chapters I will be posting will note have been thoroughly edited yet because I won't be editing thoroughly until I have all of the chapters done.**

**Also, I would be ever so grateful if you guys could review or PM me any ideas that you might have regarding the title of this novel because I am stuck for one.**

**Thank-you for reading/reviewing/PM-ing.**

**Until next time,**

**You-Just-Might**


	2. Chapter 2

I'm ten minutes late for my first class of the day and only barely succeed in not banging my head against my desk when my English teacher, Ms. Romono, asks me why.

Well, I want to say, I woke up at five o'clock this morning so that I could get my mother ready for work and my siblings ready for school, but my mother refused to get out of bed until I screamed at her and that woke up my baby sister so I went and got her from my room - she sleeps in there now because I don't trust my mother - and when I got back to my mother's room she was still in bed. I had to dress her - I didn't bother trying to get her to shower - and make her breakfast because she's apparently incapable of doing that herself. Then I got the rest of my siblings up and dressed, made them breakfast, made sure my mother got into her car and left for work on time. Then I called her boss to tell him she was coming and to ask him to call me when she showed up so that I'd know she actually got to work. By the time the kid's backpacks were packed and I'd showered and dressed and gotten them into their coats and shoes, the clock read 7:30. I dropped my baby sister off at her baby sitter's, dropped my other two siblings off at school, and drove my dead father's car here. So sorry if I'm late but I had to play Mom to my siblings and to my Mother for God's sake and if that disrupts your class then you can take it up with somebody else because I can't do anything about it. That's what I want to say but I don't, instead I mutter, "I had to drop my siblings off at school."

"I'm sorry," says Ms. Romono, "I can't hear you."

"I had to drop my siblings off at school." I say louder.

"Is that not your Mother's job?" she questions.

"Yes Ms. Romono, it is but my Mother is grieving the death of her husband and today was her first day back at work so the duty fell to me." I snap at her, my patience and self-control fraying.

"In that case," says Ms. Romono tightly, "I'll let this slide but don't be late for my class again."

"I won't be," I promise through gritted teeth even though I know that if my mother doesn't get her act together I will be.

"See to it," Ms. Romono says before turning back to her lesson.

James, who sits in front of me, shoots me a sympathetic look but I just shrug to show him it was nothing even though it really was something. Even so, it feels so good to do something normal, and you don't get more normal than Ms. Romono's English class. I grin all through her lesson about the important work of some dead poet I should probably recognize the name of but don't.

* * *

I have math second period and as I slide into my chair, I feel better than I have since Dad died. I'm not great at math but I do okay in the class, I pull 80's most of the time which is better than most people, but not really up to my personal standards.

After math is lunch. I sit at my usual lunch table with James and a handful of my other friends and let their chatter wash over me, it's normal, easy. I slide into my usual rhythm and try to ignore the feeling that this won't last. I know that at the end of the day I'm going to have to go home and that once I get there I'm going to have to deal with whatever comes up. Still, I hold onto the hope that things are finally going to get back to normal. Mom is at work - her boss called to tell me for sure - which means that there'll be money on payday. Connor and Emily are at school, Alyssa is at her babysitter's and nobody's called my cell yet which means that she's fine.

I let myself relax and focus on Margaret asking James what it means when I guy asks for your number but never calls.

"All it means is that he either lost it or forgot to call," James answers. He sounds like he's trying not to laugh.

"How do you just forget to call?" Haley, another one of my friends asks.

"You just do," James say. "He probably meant to call but never got around to it."

I snort, "Margaret, if he's that forgetful it's probably a good thing he didn't call. Being in a relationship with someone like that would suck."

"But he was really hot," she says.

"There are other hot guys out there," James says straight faced, "like me for instance."

"Oh yeah," Haley puts in, "you're definitely up there in on the hotness list."

I laugh, I just can't help myself. "Where'd you meet this guy anyways?" I ask Margaret.

"Tyler's party last week," she answers, "his name's Thomas."

"Thomas who?" James asks.

"I don't know," she answers.

"You gave your phone number to a guy without finding out his last name?" I ask in disbelief.

"Well… yeah."

I shake my head. "You are hopeless," I tell her with a grin, "absolutely hopeless."

"Well at least I went to the party," she mutters. "It's not like you three made an appearance."

"Hey, I've been planning a funeral." I tell her as lightly as I can, ignoring the pang of grief I feel at the words. Bringing up your Father's funeral tends to darken the mood.

"And I've been helping with the funeral and babysitting." James puts in quickly, probably sensing my discomfort and trying to take the attention off of me.

"And I forgot," Haley says weakly.

Margaret grins. "Fine but you all suck as friends, even if you have a valid excuse. Except for you Haley, you just suck as a friend."

"I'm a great friend," Haley informs her, "I'm just a forgetful great friend."

We all laugh. I've missed this, the pointless banter with my friends. It feels good to be around my people my own age, to not worry about dinner and lunches and bedtime and funeral preparations and my Mom losing it. Normal is what I'm going for today and normal is what I'm getting.

After school I stand in the parking lot talking to James. I need to get Alyssa from the sitter's but I figure I can spare ten minutes to talk.

"So, first day back?" James asks.

"It was good," I tell him. "It's nice to do something normal for a change. My life's been lacking in normal lately."

James snorts. "I've noticed."

"Are you coming over tonight?" I ask him. He's been over every night since Dad died.

"Yeah, want help with dinner?"

"Sure," I grin at him. "We'll go all out: steak and potatoes."

"Okay, but you're barbecuing. I suck at that."

"I know you do." I grin then sober as a question pops into my head. "Is your Mom okay with you spending so much time at my house?" I ask him seriously.

"She's fine with it. Last night she told me it was a good thing because you probably needed help and if I'm eating dinner at your house, she doesn't have to make as much food."

"You do eat a lot," I tell him with mock seriousness, "maybe I should make you-" I'm cut off by the ringing of my phone. "One sec," I tell James. "It's probably Connor telling me he and Emily are home." I put the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Emily and I are home," I hear Connor say.

"Alright. James and I are going to pick up Alyssa and then we're coming home." I answer.

"Okay. Bye."

* * *

When she opens the door, Alyssa's babysitter looks exhausted.

"How are you Charlene?" I ask her.

"I'm okay, just tired," she tells me. "The kids were wild today."

I smile a little. "How was Alyssa?"

"Great. She was quiet and slept for a full hour this afternoon."'

"Really? Next she just needs to sleep through the night," I comment. Polite pleasantries with the babysitter are normal. I'm really enjoying this normal thing.

"When my son was a baby, that was all I wanted too."

I grin. "If she sleeps through the night, I'll throw a party."

"When Jonas slept through the night, I did." She hands me Alyssa.

"Thanks Charlene," I tell her. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye!" she waves at me before closing her front door.

I strap Alyssa into her carseat and get back into the car myself.

"How was she today?" James asks me.

"Charlene said she was great," I tell him. "Apparently she slept for a full hour this afternoon and was quiet all day."

"Alyssa was quiet?" he throws a hand over his brow dramatically. "The apocalypse must be coming."

I elbow him but I'm laughing so I don't seem very serious.

"Seriously," he continues, "we better stalk up on provisions: dried fruit, canned food, oatmeal, peanut butter, bottled water; we'll clear them out. Of course we'll also need to invest in a few hazmat suits, just to be safe, and baby formula obviously. We'll need a satellite radio too, that's assuming the aliens don't destroy them all upon their arrival at earth, and..."

"It's an alien invasion now?" I cut him off.

"Of course, there's no better kind. Now where was I? Oh yeah, and we'll need to get in contact with the producers of Star Trek so that we can get a phaser or two - they worked pretty well for Picard and Janeway and..."

He keeps going until we get home, every item getting more and more ridiculous. I half listen but mostly I focus on driving. When we pull into my driveway, he is wrapping up his list, ending with, "and we're going to need to get one of those space monkeys because they've been up into the same realm as our invaders and maybe they'll have some insights into how to defeat them and get our planet back."

I laugh and open Alyssa's door. I unbuckle her and pick her up, then I pass her diaper bag to James, who slings it over his shoulder.

"Next time I'm driving," he tells me.

I glare at him. "I am a great driver," I inform him with mock hurt. "Plus, I had somebody rambling on about an alien invasion and apocalypse."

"Of course you're a good driver Anna, I'm just better. Also its an alien invasion that causes the apocalypse."

"Whatever," I say with a grin.

When I get inside the house, I am immediately accosted by Emily and Connor who want to go see a movie tonight.

"Please, please, please, please, please?" they ask, drawing out the last 'please'.

"I don't know guys...," I answer.

"I'll take them," James says from behind me. "We can leave right now."  
` "Really?" Emily asks, her eyes wide as saucers. She turns to me, "Can we?"

I sigh. "Fine. Put on your coat."

"Yes!" both Emily and Connor say together. I watch with amusement as Connor swings Emily in a circle.

"Thanks," I mouth at James. He nods. I don't think I've seen Connor or Emily this happy since Dad died.

Before they leave, James grins at me. "Enjoy your me time," he tells me.

* * *

I decided to use my "me time" to go to the mall. Now I sit in the food court at the mall with Alyssa on me knee as I eat fries that are probably the equivalent of a heart attack in fat, calories and bad cholesterol.

Once I finish my "dinner" I give Alyssa a bottle and once she's done with that, we walk around the mall. I have some cash left over from a job I'd had in the summer and so I go into some baby store to look at clothes for Alyssa. She's dangerously close to having outgrown her current clothes (babies grow fast) but I can't make any sense of the size tags on the clothing and after deciding that holding onesies up against a baby isn't a great way to judge clothing size, I enlist the help of a saleswoman behind the front counter.

"New mother?" she asks me, her voice full of barely suppressed judgment.

"No actually," I answer, trying very hard to keep my tone even and polite. "My mom just worked for longer than usual today and when she got home she went to bed so she asked me if I could take Alyssa to get some new clothes." I don't actually know if Mom is tired or not because she wasn't home yet when I left but I don't want to explain that to this woman.

"Oh... what size was it you said you needed again?" she asks me, her voice considerably warmer. "By the way, my name is Susan."

"Anna, and I didn't. That's my problem, I don't understand how these are sized." I nod to the clothes draped over my arm.

"They're sized by age," the woman, Susan tells me. "How old is your sister?"

I look affectionately at Alyssa in her carrier. "Three months," I say.

Susan makes her way over to a rack of clothes and pulls of a couple of different outfits. Another thing I've discovered about baby clothes: they usually come with more than one article of clothing. It'll be pants and a shirt, a onesie and a t-shirt or a pair of pants, a dress and tights, everything sold together.

"These should fit," Susan tells me with a smile.

I set Alyssa's carrier on the ground and look through the clothes Susan's given me. "$25 dollars?" I ask in disbelief. "I bought a pair of jeans last month for that much and they have like 15 times more material in them than these."

"Baby clothes are expensive," Susan says, looking down her nose at me. "If that'll be a problem..."

"No," I tell her, "it's fine, I just wasn't expecting the price."

I pay with my debit card, aware the entire time that I am using the last of the money my dad had made sure I had every month and that I probably wouldn't be getting any more for a while now. I push that thought from my head and thank Susan for her help, then walk out of the baby store $125 dollars lighter and with a grand total of zero dollars left in my bank account. I make a mental to go online when I get home and check the balance in my parents account.

Alyssa and I walk through the mall for a bit longer before we go home. I drove the old car that Dad kept in our garage to the mall. He loved the thing even though Mom hated it. It's bright blue and was Dad's baby. He used to tinker with the thing for hours on end out in the garage. It drove mom crazy. Personally, I think it is cool. Still, I don't really like driving it. It reminds me too much of Dad. Regardless, it runs well and I needed to get here somehow. I put Alyssa into her car seat and pull out of the parking lot.

* * *

When I walk into my house, Alyssa in tow, I find Connor and James on the couch shooting at some zombie-like creature on the TV. James looks up long enough to tell me that he put Emily to bed and that he'd promised her I'd go in and check on her when I got home. I take Alyssa out of her carrier and then, with her in my arms, walk to kitchen and make her formula. I carry her in one arm to Emily's room where I find my sister sound asleep. I pull her covers up to her chin, whisper goodnight and back out of the room, closing the door as quietly as I possibly can. I go to the kitchen next and put Alyssa in her highchair so that I can put her formula into one of her many bottles. I then hold her as she drinks it because she can't hold the bottle herself. After my sister is done that, I put her back into her highchair and start on my homework. A downside of the normalcy of being back at school is that with that sought after normal comes an hour of homework every night, sometimes more if my teachers are feeling mean.

By then end of that hour, Alyssa is crying and in need of a diaper change and bed. A wish to which I happily oblige, shooting an irritated look towards Connor and James who are still killing zombies as I make my way to my bedroom. I change Alyssa's diaper and get her into her pajamas then put her in her crib and flick the baby monitor on. I'll be lucky if she sleeps for more than three hours straight before she needs another bottle but I'll take what I can get. I leave my room and flop down on the couch next to James. He doesn't even acknowledge my presence, just continues to stare at the TV. I roll my eyes and sink into the couch, letting my eyes slide closed and just sitting for the first time today. I am exhausted.

I sit with my eyes closed and try to work through everything that has happened today. Getting mom up and to work in the morning. Dropping the kids off at school and the baby sister's, going to school myself. From there my day had been normal. I love normal.

I've been a normal kid since I was thirteen, but before that school was my refuge. When I was nine, my parents died in a car accident. I was an only child but none of my relatives wanted to take me and as my parents hadn't named a legal guardian for me in their will, I became a Permanent Ward and bounced from one foster house to another until I was thirteen and had the good luck to be placed in the home of Rose and Mark, my adoptive parents, at the same time as Connor. I can't say I had much luck with foster homes before them. In the four years I was in foster care I went through ten families, not including Rose and Mark. They started out okay but got progressively worse as time went on. In one of my later families - I was twelve - the dad beat me with a broom handle until I was so bruised it hurt to move. One day, I took the broom handle and cracked him over the head with it. I hit him at just the right angle that he passed out cold. His wife called 911 and the police took me into custody but when they saw the bruises, they let me go and took that man into custody. He was never charged though because I was moved and couldn't testify.

My last home before Rose and Mark was with Connor. I was placed with another child which had never happened to me before. Connor was eight, I was thirteen. I had just started grade eight. It was Connor's first home and my tenth; it wasn't a good one. I did what I could to protect Connor and on most days it was enough but occasionally I wasn't there to take the punches and absorb the cruel words so Connor had to. I've never forgiven myself for that.

Either way, the past few days have made me feel like I've stepped back in time. Like I'm uncertain of the future, bouncing from foster home to foster home, waiting for the next shoe to drop. When Connor and I were placed in the home of Rose and Mark Hill, we were safe. It was the first time in a long time I'd felt that way, and I have for four years. I was given a family here. A stable family. Emily was a baby when Connor and I first arrived on this doorstep and Rose and Mark where very busy but they accepted us into their home and treated us with love and patience. Both Connor and I settled into our new life with an ease but I kept waiting for the kick, the slap, the punch, the pinch that never came. They didn't yell, they didn't hit and they always made sure that we had three meals a day, even when we misbehaved. I came to love them over time and within a year and a half, we were legally adopted and no longer Permanent Wards. Three months ago, Alyssa was born. Seven days ago, Dad died. Two days ago, we buried him. Since then, Mom has slowly gotten worse and worse. Today she seemed fine though. Still I have to figure out what to do in case she isn't getting better because in my experience, when things go downhill as fast as they have been going lately, gravity keeps them moving in that direction.

**A/N:**

**Hey everybody! What's up? How's your day going?**

**First off, shout-outs:**

**Thank-you to Guest for being my first review. As for Anna and James, you'll have to wait and see what happens:)**

**Thank-you to Wease for being so supportive. I'll be sure to PM you when I get the chance!**

**That's all for shout-outs.**

**So other than that, read,review, PM and enjoy. Also, have a great day.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Hey. Chapter three is here. Enjoy! R&R please.**

Connor and Jason don't call it quits until a few minutes before 10:00 and after making sure Connor is actually in bed (he has a habit of staying up when you think he's gone to bed), I collapse back onto the couch beside James and the baby monitor.

"How are you?" James asks.

"Fine," I answer, reflexively brushing off his concern but leaning my head against his shoulder anyways, taking comfort in the warmth of his body and the fact that he's here. James is a constant in my life, has been for four years.

"You don't have to do that with me," he informs me.

"If I don't, then I have to admit to myself that I'm not fine," I tell him with a sad smile. "If I do that, I don't know if I can keep going."

"You're going to have to admit that you're not fine at some point Anna, you can't just keep pretending otherwise."

I glare at the wall. "I can try."

"Yeah, you can. Eventually you're going to crack though. Everything you've been suppressing, every feeling, every word you've stopped yourself from saying is going to come pouring out and it's better if it happens now than later."

I want to say something witty and blasé but I can't think of anything. "Did I ever tell you about Megan?" I ask him instead. I know I haven't so I continue on without waiting for him to answer. "She was one of my only friends before you. I never stayed one place long enough to make any friends but the year I met her, I got to stay with the family I'd been placed with for eight months. I was in grade 5, she was two years older than me but the foster system had made me grow up fast.

"Megan had a Dad who liked to come into her room for late night visits. She was thirteen and I was eleven. She hung herself in her basement. I can still see her pale and shaking, telling me about her Dad in the girl's bathroom at our school. I can still hear her voice, see her tears. She never told anybody else, I think her Mom knew but she never did anything about it. I went to her funeral. Her Dad gave a speech about how his daughter had tried her best to live her life to the fullest, had always seemed so happy about everything. How he had no idea why she'd taken her life. I wanted to yell at him, to punch him, to do anything that would hurt him as much as he'd hurt her that whole time. I didn't though because nobody would have believed me if I spoke up. He was a lawyer - did child abuse cases if you can believe it.

"I know what happens when you don't let yourself feel James. I kept myself from feeling for most of my life because it was easier. Safer. When you don't feel, you have nothing to lose. I was heartbroken when Megan died and I promised myself that I'd never let myself care about somebody like I did about her again. I kept that promise until I met Connor, I tried to keep it when I was placed here but I couldn't and so I gave up. I cared about Dad and now he's gone but I can't feel anything about that because if I let myself, the grief will tear me apart and right now I can't afford that. If I let myself feel, if I admit that I'm not okay, not fine, then I'll never be able to get on with my life. So I just won't grieve, won't feel and instead I'll focus on the living because there's nothing I can do about the dead." Done, I stare at the wall, my head still against James's now tense and unmoving shoulder.

"You might want to do the math on all the I'm fine's, Anna," he tells me after a long silence.

I don't answer. Instead I twist my head to bury my face in his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent and banishing the ghosts of my past back where they belong, my past. We sit like that for a long time until, eventually, I feel my eyes start to slip closed and surrender to sleep.

* * *

I'm up with the sun, still on the couch where James and I fell asleep. I sit still for a moment letting the first rays of morning sunlight slide over my face. I'm well rested, more so than I have been in a week. The realization hits me fast and hard and I'm shaking James awake.

"Alyssa slept through the night," I tell him excitedly.

"She did?" he grins at me. "Maybe you'll be able to sleep like a normal person from now on."

I grin back. "I hope so."

Since he's up, James helps me make lunches and then starts on breakfast while I hop in the shower. Once I'm done that, I wake my siblings up and get Emily and Alyssa dressed and ready for breakfast. Connor, James and Emily start in on a huge pile of eggs and bacon. I leave Alyssa in her highchair and hand Jason a bottle of formula then head to my Mom's bedroom to try and get her out of bed and off to work. She is still sleeping when I open the door.

"Mom," I say quietly, shaking her shoulder. "Mom."

She pushes my hand away and rolls onto her side, pulling the covers over her head at the same time.

"Mom. Get up." I say irritably, pulling the covers off of her.

"No, I don't want to," is her childish response. "I'm grieving," she adds as an afterthought.

"Tough," I answer, the little patience I had told myself I would have towards my Mother evaporating. "Guess what Mom? I don't care. Everybody else is having as equally hard of a time without Dad but we still need food and there are still bills to pay so you are going to get out of bed and you are going to go to work." I ignore her shocked expression and cross to her closet. I throw some clothes at her. "Put these on," I order curtly, then I turn and stalk out of her room.

I get to the kitchen to find that Alyssa is refusing to take the bottle from James so I take her and the bottle from him and get her eating. Then, with one hand, I eat my eggs and bacon while continuing to feed Alyssa. Once I've eaten, I help Emily brush her teeth for a full two minutes because her pink, singing toothbrush sings for that long and Emily refuses to stop brushing before the song is done. Alyssa is still eating in my arms as I brush my own teeth and suddenly I feel somewhat bad for my Mother. Mom was supposed to get five months of maternity leave after Alyssa was born but without her working full time, we couldn't make ends meet so she went back to work after two months. Doing all of this stuff is making me realize how much my Mom does... did. With that thought any feelings of sympathy I might have towards my Mother vanish.

Thinking about my Mother has reminded me to check on her so, with Alyssa still in my arms and me holding her bottle, I go into my Mother's bedroom. She's not there. Confused, I head to the kitchen to ask Connor and James if they've seen Mom. I stop short, staring at the table. My Mom is sitting with a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her talking to Emily and Connor like she did before Dad died. I stare for a few seconds longer, then shoot a questioning glance at James.

He shrugs.

I can't believe it. Mom has been AWOL since Dad died and now she thinks she can just pretend nothing happened? That she didn't lose it? I have been on my own try to take care of a toddler and an infant while keeping tabs on a thirteen year old. All Mom did was lie in bed, break dishes and get drunk and now she is sitting in the kitchen like she just like she did before Dad died acting like she has been supportive and mentally sound since then. Anger makes my vision blurry.

I let them talk for a few minutes (biting my tongue the whole time), then corral Connor and Emily towards the front door to put on shoes and coats and pack their backpacks. I head to my room to grab Alyssa's diaper bag. I'm about to leave when my door is blocked by a body.

"What is up with your Mom?" James asks bluntly, blocking my doorway.

"I have no idea," I answer honestly, shoving Alyssa into his arms and going back into my bedroom to look for a scarf.

"She's almost normal right now, like nothing has happened. She's helping Emily get ready." James tells me.

"What's Connor doing?" I ask.

"Ignoring her."

"Understandable," I say bitterly. "The last time somebody in his life started acting like Mom is, he ended up in a foster home with parents that beat him up for doing things like not making his bed in the morning."

"Anna. That isn't going to happen here. Nobody's going to end up back in the system."

"I know," I tell him. "I'm not going to let it."

* * *

After Mom left for work, James and I sent Connor and Emily off to school and dropped Alyssa off at the babysitter's before heading to school ourselves. We're early for our first class which is the same as yesterdays: English. I like English; I'm pretty good at it too.

I cannot say the same of the teacher.

Ms. Romono stares at us with disapproving eyes as we slide into our seats ten minutes early, the first students to enter the classroom today. We are part of Ms. Romono's only grade twelve English class of the year. She hates teaching grade twelve English, something she reminds us of almost every day. Apparently, preparing us for our university futures holds no appeal to Ms. Romono. Pity that because it's relatively appealing to us, even if that is only because no twelfth grader in their right mind wants to be unprepared for university or have to do a thirteenth year in order to graduate. I'm just hoping I can pull together enough money to pay for university or maybe get a track or academic scholarship, but that'd take a miracle.

Well, I've been waiting for a miracle my whole life. I thought that maybe my miracle was being adopted by Rose and Mark but know I'm pretty sure it wasn't. With that in mind, I think I'm overdue.

"Anna," James says, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

I jerk myself out of my thoughts. "What?" I ask.

"I've said your name four times."

"Sorry," I say. "I was thinking about how I'm going to pay for university." James knows how worried about that I've been.

"You could always get a scholarship," James offers.

"That'd take a miracle," I mutter, restating the thought that had gone through my head only moments ago.

"Come Anna, you've seen the scouts when you're competing. You're fast. Why wouldn't some university want you on their track team?"

"Why would they consider me in the first place? I might be fast but there are tons of people who are ten times faster than me."

"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit."

"Well, I guess we'll find out." Internally I am screaming at myself not to get my hopes up. There is nothing worse than wanting something - hoping for it - and not getting it.

"When you get a letter inviting you to join some Ivy League school's scholarship program, I am going to laugh at you," James informs me.

"And when I don't, I'll laugh at you," I toss back. Then we shut up because class has started.

* * *

By then end of the day, all I want is to go home but I have track practice and so I resign myself to the harsh reality of having to remain at school for two more hours.

I love to run. When I was in foster homes, it was my only outlet. Running doesn't change. Maybe the venue in which I'm running does but the pattern, the way my feet hit the ground, the burn in my chest, the feeling of my muscles once I'm done? That stays the same.

Any therapist would probably tell me that because of my unstable childhood, I strive to find secure, stable and safe environments in which to spend my time. I'm sure I'd be informed with an air of superiority that running is my security blanket, and although there is nothing wrong with having one, I might want to start thinking about the things that I run to forget. Lucky for me the day I talk to another therapist is the day I die. My limited experience with therapist hasn't been, well... promising.

I lace up my shoes in the girls change room then call Connor to see if he and Emily are home yet. After telling me that they are, he informs me that we are running low on snacks and that somebody really should go grocery shopping soon. I tell him I'll add it to my to do list.

I jog onto our school's field which consists of bleachers, football goal posts and a black track surrounding everything. The track runs under the bleachers and around the grass in a wide oval and has five lanes. It's not very nice and it's very old but I love it anyways.

"You finally thought to show up for practice," Mrs. Abernathy, the woman who runs track at our school tells me pointedly.

"Sorry Coach," I answer, "I've been a little preoccupied."

I genuinely like Mrs. Abernathy. The year I was placed with Rose and Mark, I had her for grade nine English. By grade nine, I'd made myself quite the school record. If anybody had bothered to get my side of the story before they put me down for breaking a kid's arm or starting fights in the hallway or skipping class, people probably would have realized that I'd had perfectly reasonable explanations for every one of my "incidents", as my social worker called them. Seeing as nobody ever did ask for my side of the story, my school record doesn't put me in the best light.

While other teachers talked to me like I was destined for a jail cell, Mrs. Abernathy treated me like every other student who walked into her classroom. She didn't pry and she gave me a chance to start my future without my past tainting it, something I desperately needed.

Mrs. Abernathy grins at me. "Well then, welcome back. How long will you be staying with us this time?"

"Depends on how long it is before I'm preoccupied again." I return with a grin of my own.

"Well than, lets hope it's a while because you're the fastest we've got."

My friend, Haley, nudges me with her elbow. "Without you here, I'm the fastest. Your preoccupation benefits my ego," she informs.

"I'll be sure to show up for practice then," I laugh.

"You should," Mrs. Abernathy tells me, suddenly serious. "A few practices ago, a scout showed up asking about you. He was very disappointed to find that you weren't here."

"A scout? Really?"

"Yes. He didn't leave any contact information though, only said he'll probably be back."

I grin and thank Mrs. Abernathy for telling me this piece of news then start running. I sink into my rhythm and hear the familiar sound of my shoes slapping the track. I smile the whole way. I might actually have a chance at a scholarship. I might get to go to university.


End file.
